What Is Right and What Is Easy
by Ravenclaw Wanderer
Summary: Ginny returns to Hogwarts for her 6th year to find things completely different from what she's use to. The war is in full swing, but maybe the world going insane is exactly what she needs to show what she's capable of.
1. Chapter 1

**- Chapter One -**

**Something Is Seriously Wrong with the Male Population**

_I've noticed lately, that when I'm angry, it's usually because the boys in my life are acting like idiots._

* * *

><p>I can't believe Ron. It's bad enough Harry and I can't hold a casual conversation anymore without it leading to embarrassment and awkward silences, but now Ron's gone and ruined probably the last opportunity we'll have to be alone.<p>

Well, at least I managed to give Harry his birthday present - even if it _was _cut short. Those few minutes before my dear big brother barged in were positively wonderful. If I close my eyes I can still feel his hands in my hair and his lips on mine. Ugh, I'd kill Ron but I know he means well. He's deluded himself into thinking that I need his protection. But I don't. I know perfectly well that Harry and I aren't getting back together. I just wanted to give him something to remember me by when he goes off on that mission from Dumbledore.

Dumbledore . . .

That's where all this started. After his funeral - when Harry turned to me - I knew, before he said anything, that he was going to end it. How could he not, him being the way he is? But I wasn't angry and I didn't cry (in front of him) because I've known this was how it was going to end. With him off trying to stop Voldemort. And I can't blame him for trying to stop him either. I can't get mad and storm around and pout that my life is so tough just because he's decided we stop seeing each other to protect me - even if it is unnecessary. He's lost everyone he's loved to Lord Voldemort. His parents . . . Sirius . . . and now Dumbledore too. If it were me - if my brothers or parents . . . Well, I'd want him finished and I'd want to be the one to finish him.

While I think of Harry, my mind drifts off to a fantastic fantasy of him and me and what we _would_ have done if Ron hadn't interrupted. Just as it's getting good, however, Hermione bustles into my room.

Seems I can't catch a break even in my dreams.

"Sorry about Ron. I couldn't stop him. You know how he get's," she says sympathetically, sitting down on her camp-bed.

I'm staring out the window absent-mindedly as I reply, "It's okay. Ron hasn't ripped Harry's head off, has he?" I turn my head toward Hermione and see her trying to hide a smirk.

"No, Harry was able to calm him down. It's stupid the way he acts sometimes. He seems to think that Harry's trying to string you on."

I roll my eyes. "Honestly, you'd think I couldn't look after myself. I'm the one who kissed him!"

"Yes, well, Ron's just being ridiculous -"

"_When isn't he_?" I interrupt, flinging myself back onto my bed.

"And I think it's sweet -"

"It would be 'sweet' if I'd gotten to kiss Harry for more than a couple seconds," I remark. Hermione smiles and lays backward as well.

"At least you got to kiss him and you know he cares for you," she sighs grumpily, "I, on the other hand, would be quite happy if Ron even held my hand."

"Ugh," I say as I throw my pillow at her. "Please don't start on with your fantasies about my brother. It's gross enough I know you fancy him, but I don't want to hear about your love problems."

Hermione throws the pillow back at my head. "Oh, bugger off."

"Hey! Don't need to get violent with me just because you're having issues," I say teasingly, throwing the pillow at her again.

"You started it!" she laughs while throwing it back.

I dunk and reply, "I have no idea what you're talking about." And before I know it, we're having a full-fledged pillow fight before someone calls me down to the kitchen.

As we walk downstairs, Hermione tries to convince me she won our little pillow fight.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, but you simply did not win," I laugh.

"No, Ginny, _I'm _sorry you're so depressed about Harry that you can't even think properly. It's clear that I won," she replies sarcastically, giving my shoulder a little pat.

I shake off her hand. "Oh please! You were practically begging me to lay off. And I am not 'depressed' about -" Before I can finish, we walk into the kitchen and I see Harry practically sprint out the front door, Ron on his heels. Great. Harry can't even be in the same room as me now. Wonderful . . . On second thought, I think I _will _kill Ron.

Hermione gives me a sympathetic look before going to join my ex-boyfriend and soon-to-be dead brother. I sigh and turn my attention to the rest of the room, looking for the person who called me downstairs.

"Charlie!" My second-to-oldest brother, who's been in Romania working with dragons and recruiting foreign wizards for the Order, is standing next to my mum. They seem to be having a very important . . . discussion. Or should I say argument. Judging by Mum's face, she's seconds away from rampaging the kitchen in anger.

Just kidding.

Sort of.

I walk over to them standing by the dinning table. "You called," I say.

"Hey, Squirt (I hate that stupid nickname)," Charlie greets me, slinging an arm over my shoulders, "how have you been? Why don't we go and see if any of the others want to play a round of Quidditch." He says all this in quick successionand then turns us away from our mum and practically starts pushing me toward the door.

"Charlie Weasley, get back here _right now_ and _stop _changing the subject. Your brother's wedding is tomorrow and you _are getting a hair cut_."

Charlie winces and drops his arm from my shoulders. He flops himself down into a dinning chair as an exasperated expression spreads across his face.

"Ginny, will you please explain to our mother that cutting my hair is a bad idea," he pleads.

I look over at my mum to assess the situation. You can always tell when she's willing to let something go or when she's just getting started. Fred and George are really great at it, and they taught me a few things. For instance, if her eyes are glaring furiously and her stance is confrontational - like it is now - it means she probably won't budge on the topic of discussion.

There's only one thing you can do in this circumstance . . .

"Sorry, Charlie, as much as I would love to argue with Mum about your hair issues, there has got to be something better for me to do."

. . . Leave before she starts spitting fire like an angry Hungarian Horntail.

"Go easy on him, Mum," I whisper to her as I slip by her and out the door. I walk through our neat and manicured garden that's usually unkempt and overflowing with weeds. It's seem less lively without all the little gnomes running around.

It's beautiful outside. The sun is shinning - a blessing that isn't taken for granted these days - and there's a nice gentle breeze. Perfect Quidditch conditions. In fact, if I wasn't currently pissed off at Ron, and Harry and I were on better terms I would gladly ask them to play a bit of Quidditch like Charlie had suggested, but that isn't likely to happen.

I decide to take a walk, thinking it will help me take my mind off things, but it doesn't really help. All I can think about is Harry and things I would like to say to him, but will never get the chance too. About how brave he is to be going after Voldemort and how much I care about him and how I wish he would let me come with him. About how much I want him to stay . . .

Pretty soon, I've walked a little way beyond the garden fence and am standing on a hill overlooking the small town below. The scarce smattering of trees give us just enough coverage to have some privacy from the Muggles who live down there. I sit down on the grass and ponder about what it's going to be like next term at Hogwarts. Without Hermione, who am I going to gossip about boys with. And with Ron gone, I'll have no brother to tease when he becomes too unruly. It's all so depressing, I consider hiding away in Hermione's beaded bag she showed me the other day that she's bewitched to be able to fit all their possessions in while their on their mission. By the time I devise a plan - that I know will never work, but was a fun way of distracting myself - it's almost noon and I know I should start to head back because people will be wondering where I am. However, the peace is so tempting I decide to wait just a little while longer.

* * *

><p>"I thought I'd find you here."<p>

I glance over my shoulder, see Bill walking casually toward me, and go back to gazing across the valley. I ignore him as he sits down next to me on the grass because I know what's coming. Instead, I watch the children down in the playground running around without a care in the world and wait for Bill to say something.

He must know something's wrong - he always knows when I'm upset, even when no one else does.

Bill's watching me out of the corner of his eyes, as if waiting for me to explode, but he knows I won't. I'm not the crying type, but that doesn't mean I don't have feelings, it just means I don't want to share them.

"What's up, Squirt?" Bill asks, right on cue. Ugh, I knew he wasn't going to let me wallow in self-pity peacefully. What an arse.

In an attempt to dodge the question, I reply, "Could you not call me that?" I didn't mean to say it so snarky, but Charlie had already called me that today and it was an annoying pet name. Just because I'm tiny doesn't mean people have to call me names. Plus, I just was not in the mood. Boy issues are one thing, but if people start going around calling me 'Squirt' all the time I might actually have to hurt someone. It seems to becoming a bit of an occurrence with the male side of my family to piss me off.

"What are you going to do about it, _Squirt_?" he teases playfully while ruffling my hair with his hand. Oh, it's on. Bill picked the wrong day to mess with me! I shove his arm away and fix him with 'the Mum stare' - a look that has terrified people everywhere.

Bill only lasts a few moments before turning away and covering his eyes. "Okay, okay, I surrender, just stop with the eyes!"

I stop and we stare at each other for a couple seconds before roaring with laughter.

"It's scary how good you are at doing that," says Bill. We laugh some more and then fall into a comfortable silence. I don't think I've felt this peaceful since those moments I spent with Harry on the grounds of Hogwarts. After the night Dumbledore died, everything has been tension, worry, and sadness.

The tranquility feels amazing and I allow myself to truly rest because I know it won't last forever. Voldemort will make sure of that. But for now, I lean against Bill and rest my head on his shoulder.

I start to think I'm safe until Bill ruins the moment by saying, "So, you never answered my question."

Damn it. He lulled me into a false sense of security and then snapped when I least expected it. Very clever.

I sigh. "It's nothing, Bill." _Please drop it._

"That's not what Hermione said." She is so going to get a face full of pillow when I get home.

"What exactly did she tell you?" I ask cautiously. Maybe she told him I have foot fungus or something, instead of making the humongous mistake of telling him -

"Nothing much -" _Whew _"- just that it has something to do with Harry."

Perfect. Well, why don't Ron, Bill, and Hermione just hold a convention in the living-room and invite the whole family to discuss my problems. That way no one feels left out.

Bill's still waiting for an answer, so I say, "It was nothing. Ron was just being a prat." _What else is new?_ When I don't elaborate, he nudges me in the side. _Geez_. "Ugh, you are so bloody annoying."

"Thank you."

I roll my eyes and huff. It's hard to believe that he's getting married tomorrow. Who'd want to marry a nosey git like him? Well, I guess he is marrying Phl - I mean Fleur. I've been trying to be nicer to her but sometimes it's hard when I think about all the extra chores I have to do because of her.

"Ginny?" Oh, right. Bill wants me to spill my guts. Sigh.

It seems the only way I'm going to get out of this is by telling him what's wrong, seeing as how I'm not old enough to use magic. "I was trying to give Harry his birthday present," (I don't think he needs to hear exactly what that was), "when Ron barged in, dragged Harry away, and accused him of stringing me on." The whole thing sounded even more ridiculous out loud.

Bill is thoughtful and quiet while he mulls this over. Then he says, "Yeah, Ron was being a prat." I snort. I knew the whole time it was the right idea to tell Bill the truth. "But he was also just trying to protect you," Bill continues. Never mind, I knew it was an awful idea. _What was I thinking?_

"Why am I the one who always needs protecting?" I mutter furiously. _ No, Ginny stay here. No, Ginny you're to0 young. No, Ginny it's not safe._ "I can look after myself, you know," I burst out, "I'm not a child!"

Bill gives me a knowing look that makes me want to punch him in the face; the sodding berk. "Ah, I think we've found the real problem," he says in a disgustingly helpful tone.

"Shut it." I _so _don't want to talk about this.

"No. You're really upset because Harry won't let you come with on whatever he's doing."

I glare at the ground mutely, pulling fists full of grass up savagely from the earth like each blade has done me a great personal wrong, and then yell out, "It's not fair!" All the anger and fear threatens to bleed out of me as I furiously wipe away a stray tear that's leaked out of my eye against my will. _ Stupid tear, why can't you listen and stay were you belong?_ (Yes, I know I'm talking to an inanimate object, but incase you haven't noticed, I'm acting a bit crazy presently. I blame it on PMS and boys. Those two things always seem to be causing me problems.)

Bill looks shocked by my outburst and I know I must sound childish, but I don't really care at the moment, as I say, "Why does he have to be all noble and gentlemanly? Why can't he just be selfish like every other boy and forget about my safety?" I bury my head into Bill's neck as he wraps his arm around my shoulders. Brothers . . . one minute you want to strangle them and the next they're comforting you. It was enough to give a girl whiplash.

"I know it's hard," says Bill softly while he rubs my back. "But do you really think Harry wants you to be upset over this?"

"Yes," I answer stubbornly, and then I sigh. "No . . . I know why he's leaving, but that doesn't make it any better."

Bill held me close and kind of rocked me back and forth. It was nice. More tears welled up in my brown eyes as I thought of the first time I kissed Harry, in front of the entire Gryffindor House, when I had decided to show him how much I cared about him.

"What if I never see him again," I manage to choke out in a whisper, voicing what I've really been dreading since I heard Harry wasn't returning to Hogwarts. "What if I never see any of them again." The thought was unbearable.

Bill pulls back and looks into my teary eyes. "Hey," he replies, "I don't think that's going to happen. Harry can look after himself. He is the Chosen One, remember." Bill and I smirk at the title the _Daily Prophet_ gave Harry last year. "And Ron might be thick sometimes, but he can duel with the best of them. Not to mention, Hermione is going with them and she's the brightest witch of her age. She'll be able to watch over them when their being blockheads." Bill pats my shoulder. "I don't think Dumbledore would give the three of them a job to do if he didn't think they could handle it. I've got faith in them."

I think about all the things Harry, Ron, and Hermione have been through since the age of eleven. Saving the Philosopher's stone, fighting a basilisk, saving Sirius, the Triwizard Tournament, fighting at the Department of Mysteries and at Hogwarts the night Dumbledore died. My confidence strengthens.

My voice returns and I say, "Thanks, Bill." Maybe confiding in my brother wasn't such a horrible idea. I'll have to thank Hermione. It's going to go straight to her head, of course, thinking that she always knows what's best, but, then again, she usually does.

"No problem, Squirt." _Grrrr._ I knew he'd find a way to ruin the moment.

Before I can hurt his half-werewolf arse, we hear footsteps approaching us. Both of us stiffen instinctively and draw our wands. We're sitting outside the protective spells that surround the Burrow and this person cold be anyone - friend or foe. For the first time, I realize how foolish it was to come out here with my guard down.

It turns out to be Hermione, calling us back home. Bill leaves after giving me another pat on the back, muttering something about Fleur probably looking for him. Hermione and I are left to walk back to the Burrow alone.

Hermione glances nervously at me, trying to access my anger like I did earlier to my mum. Apparently, I don't look like I'm about to spit fire because she says tentatively, "Are you mad at me?" Referring to fact that she sold me out to Bill that I was upset.

I decide to torture her for a few seconds. After all, I wouldn't want this to inflate her ego. I give her 'the Mum stare' (It's really one of the best facial expressions I've learned how to do). When I feel she's suffered enough, my face softens and I link my arm through hers. "Thank's Hermione. Bill was surprisingly helpful." She beams, and together we walk back to the Burrow, my family, and all the problems that go with them.

* * *

><p>When we get back to the house everyone's bustling around the kitchen, getting things ready for Harry's birthday dinner. Facing Harry won't be as difficult now that I've had time to compose myself. Starting as of five seconds ago, I've decided that from now on, I'm not going to give Harry Potter a second thought. I'm going to move on with my life, find a reasonably handsome boyfriend, dye my hair black, get a tattoo, and move to Paris. It doesn't particularly have to be in that order, I'm not picky. I'd just like to forget that I ever had a mad crush on The Boy Who Lived. Is that too much to ask for?<p>

Now, if only I could stop think about kissing him, and laughing with him, and the fact that I was starting to fall in -

_Stop! Stop! Stop! _I am so not going to go there.

To get my mind off Harry, I accept Mums offer to set the table for dinner. Hagrid, Tonks, and Remus are coming over so we moved the table out into the garden. As I walk outside, laden with dining utensils, I see Ron, Hermione, and Harry standing off to the side. Hermione's done a beautiful job decorating, turning the leaves on the trees gold with purple and gold streamers draping everywhere.

". . . Really got an eye for that sort of thing," I hear Ron say.

"Thank you, Ron!" Looking up from the plate I'm laying on the table, I see Hermione positively beaming at the acknowledgement. I snort; Ron has been trying to get back into Hermione's good book ever since the whole Lavender catastrophe. I think she's purposely trying to make him feel bad so he'll give her compliments, but he doesn't need to. Everybody knows by now that they both like each other, except for the pair of them. Those two might as well snog now and get it over with. Merlin knows they're both thinking about it.

Harry is smirking at his two best friends. Our eyes meet from across the garden and I give him a small smile - trying to convey to him without words that we're okay; he doesn't have to worry about stringing me along. I'm just glad he's been apart of my life. However, the moment passes and Harry quickly drops his eyes and turns to talk to Monsieur Delacour.

Sigh. Okay, seriously, no more thinking about Harry. I'm forbidding myself to even acknowledge his presence. In fact, If anyone mentions his name to me, I'm going to just turn around and walk away.

I finish laying the table and head back to the Burrow. In the kitchen, I find Charlie sitting at the table, running a hand over his now extremely short hair. I can't remember the last time it's ever been this short.

"Sorry about your hair, Charlie," I say sympathetically. As I pass him on my way around the table, I pat him on the shoulder. He never stood a chance against Mum when she's been stressed out to the max for weeks. Between preparing for the wedding; George losing his ear; Harry, Ron, and Hermione's announcement that they're going to drop out of Hogwarts; and whatever other terrible thing that's happened since the last time we turned on the Wizarding Wireless Network; Mum wasn't to be argued with these days.

I'm almost to the staircase when Charlie suddenly says, "Hey, Gin, have you given Harry his birthday present yet, 'cause I forgot -"

"- La, La, La, I can't hear you," I interrupt, sticking my fingers in my ears, and running up the stairs to my room. Charlie probably thinks I'm on drugs right now, but at least I stuck to my 'No Thinking About Potter' plan.

* * *

><p>In the end, after standing in my room and staring at the wall, I realized that no matter what happens between me and Harry, I can't run from it. Not when we're living in a time when our world could be turned upside down in a heartbeat. I simply have to focus on the present - not the future.<p>

Five minutes later, I'm outside talking to Remus and Tonks, who've arrived for dinner. I love it when Tonks comes to visit. She's like the older sister I would trade any of my brothers for. Joking, I love my brothers. _And sometimes I love them so much I want to kill them._

"How are you, guys?" I ask, giving Tonks a huge hug. Ever since their wedding she's looked absolutely radiant. Nothing but smiles and glowing like she's got a wonderful secret. I'm glad a least someone is enjoying herself in these dark times.

"Great!" Tonks replies as she casts Remus a loving look while he shakes my hand.

Remus gives me a weak smile that looks more like a grimace. _Hmm_, I can't quiet place it, but he doesn't look so 'great'. You'd think a guy would be a little happier after finding someone who loves him.

Obviously something's going on and Merlin knows I'm in need of a distraction. I give Tonks a look that clearly says 'we need to talk'.

She understands immediately, turns to her husband and says pointedly, "Love, why don't you ask Bill about getting some gold out of my vault."

Nothing get's by Remus, who chuckles, "Ah, I can see when I'm not wanted," before walking off to find someone else to talk to. It's plain to see he's been trained to recognize when his wife wants some girl time. I think life would be much simpler if every male learned how to tell when females want to talk about them.

When Lupin leaves, Tonks grabs my hand and leads me over to the dinning table. Hermione wanders over to join us as we sit down. With everything that's been going on, it's been awhile since the three of us have had a nice gossip session.

Once settled, I cut right to the chase, "So, how have you and Remus been getting on?"

She sighs. "I know what your thinking, but everything's going fine. You know how he is, he can't just let himself be happy, he needs to second guess everything. If Remus wasn't worrying about hurting me, then he'd be worrying about something or other."

"How's he handling his transformations," Hermione asks.

"He's . . . handling them. Lycanthropy isn't exactly a walk in the park." Tonks's voice drops. "I think, the pain is getting worse."

Poor Lupin. "What would cause that?" I ask, looking between Hermione and Tonks.

Hermione answers my question, "I've read that, when experiencing depression or going through a change, pain during the transformation can increase."

How awful. I can't imagine how terrible the pain must be for Remus or the anguish Tonks feels having to live with someone who goes through that kind of agony and not being able to do anything about it. They're both stronger than I'll ever be.

"Enough about that," Tonks says, wanting to change the subject. "How are the two of you handling your boy problems?"

"Blah," Hermione and I say simultaneously after looking at each other for a couple of seconds. No one told me that when you become a teenage girl, boys become even more annoying then what they already were to begin with.

Before Tonks can question our response, Mum walks out into the garden with Harry's snitch-shaped birthday cake.

"I think we'd better start without Arthur," Mum says to the gathering. "He must have been held up at - oh!"

Suddenly, a streak of light comes flying across the yard and onto the table, where it changes into a bright silver weasel - my father's patronus.

"Minister of Magic coming with me."

Everyone stands speechless staring at each other. No one seems to be breathing and it's so quiet you could've heard a pin drop.

Then as if breaking out of a stupor, Lupin hastily says, "We shouldn't be here. Harry - I'm sorry - I'll explain another time -"

He rushes over to the table, grabs Tonks's wrist, and the two of them climb over the garden fence and vanish.

Nothing's making sense - from the Minister coming home with my father to Tonks and Remus's bizarre exit - so naturally I turn to Hermione, the girl who always knows what's going on, but she looks just as confused as everyone else. One thing's for sure - this can't be good. The last time Scrimgeour showed up at our house unexpectedly he tried to make Harry a Ministry mascot, and my brother, Percy (the prat), had gotten a face full of mashed parsnips. Admittedly, that last bit wasn't so bad because Percy's been acting like a royal arse.

Mum looks thunderstruck. "The Minister - but why - ? I don't understand -" Before Mum can finish, Dad appears with the grizzly haired Rufus Scrimgeour.

* * *

><p>The Ministry sure does a <em>great <em>job finding the worst wizards in the world to be Minister of Magic. The only reason Scrimgeour came to our house in the first place was because he had to give Harry, Ron, and Hermione their gifts from Dumbledore's will. According to Hermione, the jerk was trying to weasel out of giving them anything at all. Something about waiting until the last-minute and refusing to give Harry Godric Gryffindor's sword that Dumbledore left to him.

"I love how our Ministry can hide behind laws that have nothing to do with the situation!' Hermione is ranting hours later as we get ready for bed. "How could he even suggest that Dumbledore would give us something to do with the Dark Arts!"

I pull back my sheets and climb into bed, letting Hermione blow off some steam. "I know, he's a sodding -"

"He's an arse, that's what he is."

See, there's no point trying to get a word in when she's worked up.

"To think that these people are supposed to be in charge of bringing down Voldemort is laughable," she continues, flopping into bed as well.

I look towards her and crack a smile. "Don't worry, with you hunting after Voldemort, the Ministry will be begging on their knees with gratitude when you take him down. They might even ask you to step up and become the youngest Minister of Magic ever just to show how much we can't live without your brilliance, Hermione."

"Oh, shut up," she mutters, hitting me in the face with her pillow.

"Are we going to start this again?"

We laugh, and I'm glad I've pulled her mind away from Scrimgeour. Minutes pass and the two of us settle into a quite silence. I think about the emotional day I've had while I gaze out at the moon through my window. I _hate_ emotional, so it's no surprise that I am dead tired. Trying to grapple with stupid feelings can really exasperate a girl.


	2. Chapter 2

**- Chapter Two -**

**WEDDINGS and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Home**

_I don't understand what all the fuss is about weddings. Example: is it really necessary for a person to take six hours to get ready? Six hours!_

* * *

><p>I wake to the sound of someone fluttering around my room. Peeking through my eyelashes I see golden rays of sunlight seeping through my window, suggesting that its way too early to be up. I groan and roll over.<p>

"Good, you're awake. Now, get up, it's time to get ready," a voice says in my ear. I swat it away - I don't want to get up. Sleeping under my nice, warm blankets sounds much more fun.

"Ginny, you have to wake up now," the voice urges. It's Hermione. "Your mum wants us to hurry up and eat breakfast so we can get ready for the wedding."

The wedding. I groan, "The weddings not for ages. I'm not getting up at the crack of dawn to get ready."

Hermione gives me a little shake. If I wasn't half asleep, I might have hit her for waking me.

She shakes me again, harder this time. "Just give me five more minutes, please," I beg. _Merlin, leave me alone._ You'd think Hermione would know by now - after sharing a room with me for years - that I am _not _a morning person.

"Get up, Ginny," she demands.

"No." I grab my pillow and pull it over my head, trying to fall back asleep.

"Fine, if you're going to be this way, I have no problem with doing this . . ."

Suddenly, I'm not on my bed anymore. With a yelp, I find myself hoisted upside down by my ankle. I glare at my roommate as I feel the blood flowing to my head and cross my arms over my chest. Instead of running away from my death glare, Hermione starts laughing her head off. I'm seething.

"Humph, yes, ha ha, this is horribly funny and all but . . . Do you think you could knock it off for a few seconds to _let me down_?" _So I can murder you._

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. Here."

She waves her wand at me and I immediate fall back on to my bed headfirst. This only makes Hermione laugh some more at my expense.

"I can't wait until I can do magic out of school, so I can see the look on your face when I curse you into pieces the next time you wake me up before the sun has reached noon," I grumble, getting up and stomping out the door.

Hermione scrambles after me, chuckling under her breath.

In the kitchen, there is a commotion of movement as people continuously hustle in and out of the house. Sidestepping around my dad and one of his friends from the ministry, I shuffle towards the table where Ron, Harry, Fred, and George are sitting, groggily eating cereal. It's comforting to know that I'm not the only one who's half dead. I grab a piece of toast and a glass of orange juice and sit down next to them. Hermione sits down across from me and I give her another death glare.

"Come on, you know you wouldn't have gotten up if I hadn't done it," she exclaims, frustrated.

I don't reply - just pick up my toast and keep eating. "You didn't have to use magic."

She huffs. "You'll get over it."

"What's going on?" Fred asks curiously, looking between Hermione and me.

Hermione smirks. "Nothing. Ginny woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," she says innocently. Her eyes are twinkling as she takes a sip of coffee, and I just know she's thinking about what I looked like suspended in midair.

"Someday, you're going to find _yourself _dangling upside down and I'm going to laugh at the look on _your _face," I reply sweetly.

"Can't wait." She says this so seriously I start laughing. Hermione smiles back at me.

The boys are looking completely baffled by our exchange. The expressions on their faces make us laugh even harder.

"Okay," George says slowly, "What's this all about?"

"I used the levicorpus spell on Ginny because she was being difficult," Hermione explains. A smile spreads across Harry's face. He knows how much I love getting up early. I used to complain all the time last year when he scheduled morning Quidditch practices.

Ron reaches across Hermione to grab the last sausage. "When isn't she being difficult?" he asks.

I beat him to it and shove the sausage into my mouth. He glares at me. "Oh, _I'm sorry_. Did you want that sausage?" The others start laughing and Harry actually looks at me for longer than ten seconds. Maybe today won't be so bad.

At the moment, Mum hurries up to the table. She looks half mad with her hair partway finished and her eyes looking around frantically. If she doesn't chill out this wedding is going to give her a heart attack. I've always said she was going to go crazy with the details. That's why, for my wedding (if I ever have one) I'm simply going to lock Mum in the closet until it's all over.

"Finished eating?" she asks. Before anyone can answer, she waves her wand and all the food vanishes, including the piece of toast George had in his mouth. "I want all of you to go upstairs and get ready. Then, Fred, George, Harry, and Ron, I want you to go wait by the marquee for the guests and show them where to sit. Here -" she hands them seating plans. "Ginny and Hermione, you're going to help Fleur get ready. She's in my room with Apolline and Gabrielle along with your dresses."

"Why can't she get ready herself?" I mutter miserably. The last thing I want to do is help make Fleur more beautiful than she already is.

"Because she's the bride and everything needs to be perfect," Mum answers, turning around and walking away.

"Have fun," George says cheekily before Hermione and I enter Mum's room. I stick my tongue out at him and he laughs. George knows that I like dressing up just as much as he likes following the rules.

* * *

><p>"Oh, you girls look wonderful," Mum sighs hours later.<p>

From the moment Hermione and I walked through the door, we'd worked nonstop with Fleur, Gabrielle, and Madame Delacour making everything perfect. You would think that with the five of us we could manage to finish quickly, but no. When you stick five girls in a room full of make-up, hair-care potions, and clothes, you end up with a lot of gossip and goofing around. Not to mention there is tons involved in getting ready for a wedding, and most of it is painful. There's all this plucking, prodding, and scrubbing that leaves you feeling rubbed raw.

"It eez ze price to pay for beauty," Madame Delacour had said before going to work on Hermione's eyebrows. I don't mind beauty, but judging from the look on Hermione's face as Madame Delacour attacked her with tweezers, I think I'd rather take my chances with ugliness before letting anyone near me with those things. I'm certain guys don't go to all this trouble when getting ready.

Yet, I have to admit the pain paid off in the long run because now, finally, after countless hair, make-up, and dress checks, all of us look amazing. Standing before the appraising eyes of Mum and Apolline - both of whom have already changed into their dress robes - I take in our hard work.

The wedding dress Fleur chose is a simple, graceful white gown that enhances her natural beauty. Not surprising really, seeing has she could wear rags and still look gorgeous.

Gabrielle and I are wearing matching knee-length, golden sundresses. The soft material flows smoothly down my body and I'm grateful Fleur chose such a flattering dress for her bridesmaids. For my hair, Madame Delacour pulled it back into an elegant French twist, leaving a few wisps of hair falling around my face that she curled with her wand. Gabrielle let me borrow some of her silver bangles and Hermione even talked me into wearing the white high heeled sandals mum was trying to force me into. I'm a tomboy. You know, high-tops and Quidditch, not three inch deathtraps and jewelry. The last time I tried to wear heels I got about five feet before landing on my face.

I stopped complaining though when Hermione told me, "Stop whining. Those shoes make it look like your legs go on for miles." I then decide I'm going to start wearing heels more often, if I can stop wobbling.

Hermione looks stunning in a floaty, lilac-colored dress with matching heels. She's left her hair down, but instead of her normally bushy curls, she used Sleekeazy's Hair Potion to make her hair look sleek and shiny like it was during the Yule Ball. She'd spent a good amount of time sitting in front of the mirror, fussing over everything and trying to get her make-up just right. I think I know who all the hard work is for, but I don't say anything.

After a minute of watching her go from running a hand through her hair to glancing at her reflection in the mirror to fiddling with her dress, I grab her hand and pull her to the side away from the others.

"Will you stop fidgeting," I scold her. She was starting to make _me _nervous. "Ron's not going to know what hit him. You look great."

She flashes me a small smile in thanks and then gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Like wise. If Harry doesn't stare at you all night, I'm a Death Eater."

"Well, then let's hope for your sake his eyes are glued to me." A girl can dream, can't she?

Our giggling is interrupted by the arrival of an old witch clutching a beautiful, goblin-made tiara stomping through the door with her beaky nose thrust in the air.

"Oh no, it's Muriel," I mutter darkly as Mum greats, "Auntie Muriel, how are you?"

I'm spared from answering Hermione's questioning look as Muriel shouts, "Awful. How do you think I am? I'm a hundred and seven and I just had to walk up all those stairs." _ Too bad she didn't fall down those stairs and break her ankle. She would blame it on us, and then we would never have to see her again._

"You there, I'm in need of that chair more than you." Gabrielle squeaks, hops out of the seat, and takes cover behind her mum. Lucky. I'm not allowed to hide from Muriel because Mum says we have to be nice to family. I think that's rubbish though because I always _tried_ to be nice to Percy and he walked out on us.

"So, this is the bride," grunts Muriel from her seat, eyeing Fleur. After sizing her up, she grumbles, "Well, at least she's not ugly."

Wow, that was almost a compliment, I think.

Madame Delacour, doesn't seem to think so, but Muriel hasn't noticed the glares she's getting from her or she doesn't care because she continues, "I was a little apprehensive when I found out your son's marrying a French girl, but know I can see were the appeal comes from -"

"Auntie Muriel, you haven't met my friend, Hermione, yet," I blurt out, cutting across her dissatisfaction of my future sister-in-law, "She's been dying to meet you." Hermione is shaking her head and trying to hide herself behind me. Unfortunately for her, I'm shorter and stronger than her. I pull her toward Muriel and stand her in front of me.

Muriel's beady, red-rimmed eyes turn to criticize Hermione. "Oh dear, is this the Muggle-born?" she asks, and then after a pause, "Bad posture and skinny ankles."

Hermione's mouth opens, as if she's going to retort, but then thinks better of it and closes it.

There's an awkward silence where Muriel looks around trying to find something else to dislike. Thankfully Mum decides we've all suffered enough and have paid the necessary requirement of being nice to Muriel. "Come with me, Auntie Muriel. The boys have been looking forward to seeing you." I manage to hide my laugh as a sudden fit of coughs. The boys have been looking forward to Muriel's visit like awaiting for the news that someone has died.

Once Muriel and my mum are gone, Hermione turns on me and says, "Gee, thanks for sacrificing me to that old bat."

I give her my best innocent look. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but someone had to save Fleur from that monster. She already agreed to marrying Bill, even after meeting Fred and George, but I'm pretty sure she didn't sign up for Muriel. Just consider it taking one for the team."

"Yeah, okay." She picks up her little beaded bag from the side table. "I'm going to go downstairs and find Ron and Harry."

At the same time Hermione decides to leave, Madame Delacour and Gabrielle decide to go wait for the rest of the guests to be seated downstairs. As the door closes behind Gabrielle, I'm left alone with Fleur. I stand there looking at anything but her.

I feel like I should say something - apologize for my behavior towards her. We are going to be family after all. I want to tell her I'm glad she's marrying my brother, yet I can't find the right words to say so without sounding stupid. '_You know Fleur, you're not as air-headed and rotten as I thought you were' _doesn't sound very appealing. To be honest, the only reason I was so adamant against her in the first place was jealousy. Partly because she was stealing my already precious time with my brother. Mostly because she's so beautiful, every time she walks into a room every girl takes a hit to their self-esteem.

"Fleur, I . . . ," she looks up from adjusting the tiara on her head, waiting for me to finish. The words don't come. I hate apologizing - I'm no good at it.

Fleur senses my discomfort and grabs her wand. I eye it hesitantly. She wasn't going to curse me, was she?

"Come 'ere," she says kindly as she beckons me toward the floor-length mirror in the corner. Curious, I go stand next to her in front of the mirror.

Before I can ask what she's doing, she points her wand at the neck of my dress and says, "Adapto Vestis." Instantly the square neckline of my dress changes in to a sweetheart neckline, exposing more of my chest. "There, now 'Arry definitely won't be able to keep 'is eyes off you." Then she gives me a wink, and returns to adding blush to her cheeks. I admire her work in the mirror, not even angry Bill seems to have told Fleur about Harry. Or maybe it's obvious.

"Thanks, Fleur," I say as Gabrielle sticks her head back into the room. It's not an apology, but I mean it. That's a start a least.

"It's time," Gabrielle says.

Fleur pats my shoulder, grabs her bouquet, and exits the room. I also grab my flowers and follow her.

Downstairs, we walk outside to stand next to the opening in the marquee with Mum, Dad, Gabrielle, and Monsieur Delacour. I can hear the soft murmuring from the crowd inside waiting for the wedding to begin. Fleur hears it to, and begins playing with her silvery blonde hair and biting her lip.

"You'll be fine," I encourage her. She smiles and takes her position next to her father while Mum and Dad walk into the tent and take their seats.

As the music begins, Gabrielle and I enter the marquee and walk up the aisle to stand at the front with Bill and his best man, Charlie. I watch him as Fleur enters on the arm of her father to a collective sigh from everyone. Bill's face lights up and any scars from Fenrir Greyback disappear. If I'm thankful for anything from Fleur, it's that my brother gets to spend the rest of his life with someone who makes him so happy.

"Ladies and gentlemen," says the small, tufty-haired wizard who is officiating the ceremony in a singsong voice. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful soul . . ."

"Yes, my tiara sets off the whole thing nicely," Auntie Muriel says in a carrying whisper. I and everyone else try to ignore her. "But I must say, Ginevra's dress is far too low cut."

I glance around, grinning, trying to find Muriel so I can give her the shut-up-you're-being-rude look. Instead, I catch Harry - who is disguised to look like one of my many cousins - looking at me and give him a wink. I'll have to thank Fleur again after this.

I know I should be paying attention, but I can't really focus. I keep stealing peaks at Harry, who has a dazed look about him as he stares at me. It's flustering and more than once I have to stop myself from messing with my hair or dress, like Hermione and Fleur were earlier. He shouldn't make me so nervous. We aren't even together anymore.

"Do you, William Arthur, take Fleur Isabelle . . . ?"

_Okay, Ginny, your brother is getting married. Pay attention._

In the front row, Mum and Madame Delacour are both crying into scraps of lace. Fred and George have got these goofy grins on, and Hagrid is making a racket in the back row where he is blowing into one of his tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs. I turn back toward Bill and Fleur.

" . . . then I declare you bonded for life."

A shower of silver stars fall upon Bill and Fleur, spiraling around them as they kiss in a passionate embrace. I laugh and clap loudly with Fred and George as they lead a round of applause. Overhead, golden balloons burst to release Birds of paradise and tiny golden bells that add songs and chimes to the din.

"Ladies and Gentleman! If you would please stand up!"

"Stand up? I'm a hundred and seven . . . ," Auntie Muriel grumbles. I roll my eyes - that excuse is getting older than she is.

When everyone is standing, the tiny wizard waves his wand and transforms the elegant marquee into a beautiful reception area. The ceremony has finished at the perfect time so that the sun is falling behind the trees, giving everything a golden shine to it. Tables appear along with waiters carrying food and beverages. As the band begins to play by the dance floor, I quickly make my way to Bill and Fleur to beat the onrushing crowd of people coming to congratulate them.

"Congrats," I tell the newlyweds. I manage to throw my arms around Bill and even shyly give Fleur a quick kiss on the cheek before I'm pushed out of the way by their mothers. The pair of them grab Bill and Fleur in rib-crushing hugs as tears run down their faces. The sight of them gushing about how happy they are for their children is comical. If I ever have children I promise to never embarrass them like that.

Finally, Dad pulls the two women away, saying, "Give other people a chance to say congratulations."

Mum and Madame Delacour are replaced my Fred and George. They both slap him on the back as Fred says, "Well Bill, we still don't know how you convinced Fleur to marry you, but good for you."

"Yeah, we still think you've put her under the imperious curse," says George.

Charlie hits them upside the head. Wincing, they say, "Good luck," to Fleur and walk off rubbing the back of their heads.

I follow after them, chuckling at the idiocy of my brothers. The three of us find a table with some of Fleur's cousins. No need to wonder what's directed them towards this table. We've barely been sitting for two seconds when Fred and George start flirting, talking in what little French they know and kissing the girls' hands. I'd tell them they look ridiculous, but where's the fun in that for me. It's much more entertaining watching them make fools of themselves than watching Bill and Fleur take their first dance.

From my seat I can see everything that's going on in the marquee. I smile when I see Ron dragging Hermione out onto the dance floor away from Harry who's talking to Victor Krum. I also spot Luna, swaying back and forth slowly to the song. I glance back at Fred and George, who are so absorbed in laughing girls they won't notice if I slip away. I doubt they'd notice anything - even if the tent was on fire.

Luna is turned away from me as I walk toward her. I tap her on the shoulder and say, "Mind if I join you?"

"Hello, Ginny," she says in her dreamy voice. "I like you dress. It's the exact color of the fur on a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"Erm, thank you," I reply, trying not to laugh. I love Luna dearly, but the things she says sometimes make me wonder what goes on in that head of hers. She's in my year at Hogwarts and when I had first met her I'd thought she was a bit odd and tended to stay away from her. Then we both joined Dumbledore's Army and I got to really know the girl with dirty blonde hair and protruding grey eyes. Once you got past all her mythical creatures and bizarre comments, she's a very kind and loyal friend. You can always count on her to be brutally honest, even if it's about herself.

The song changes to a faster tempo. Luna and I twirl around each other swaying our hips in time to the music. Over the thumping of the bass I call, "Been having a good summer?"

"Oh, yes. I've spent most of my time down by this little creek searching for Gulping Plimies. Daddy has a wonder recipe for Plimpy Soup."

I don't know how to respond to that, but am saved from the need of answering by the song ending. The perfect excuse to escape comes in the form of my hot body and parched throat. Thank Merlin for perspiration.

I tell Luna I need a drink and head off in the direction of the closest waiter. After finishing a butterbeer I decide it's safe to return to the dance floor. However, on the way back I run into Lee Jordan, a friend of Fred and George and fellow Gryffindor, who insists on dancing with me. He won't accept 'no' for an answer and pulls me into his arms. Lee is a nice bloke, but I'm not really interested. I tell myself it's because he's not my type (too much like my brothers), but a nagging voice in the back of my head tells me it's really because I'd much rather be in the arms of Harry Potter.

I mentally kick myself and try to focus on Lee. He doesn't seem too bothered by my lack of attention, though, because I catch him staring of in the direction of Fleur's beautiful cousins who are following Fred and George into the woods.

When the song finishes, I politely thank him for the dance and look for somewhere to sit down. All this dancing is hurting my feet. I slip out of my heels and sit down at a table next to Tonks and Remus, who doesn't look any happier than he did yesterday. Tonks on the other hand, looks very pretty with her hair a bright blonde color.

"You look great," Tonks compliments.

I wave my hand airily. "I try."

"Bet I know who all the hard work is for." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I change the subject quickly. Remus is right there, after all. I'd like to keep as many people in the dark on _that _topic as I can. "So, why did you guys leave in such a hurry yesterday."

Remus's face darkens even more, if that's possible. "Werewolves aren't very popular with the Ministry right now. Didn't want to make matters worse," he says moodily, turning away to brood as he watches Bill and Fleur dancing.

I didn't like his tone, nor did Tonks it appears because she hops out of her seat and says, "I'm going to get us something to drink."

Sitting alone with Remus, my blood starts to boil as he continues to sigh unhappily. Without thinking, I blurt out, "What is your problem?"

He turns to me, shocked at my sudden anger. "Excuse me?"

I should probably shut up now before I cause any more damage, but again the wards flow out of my mouth before I can stop them. "Why are you being so horrid? You finally have someone who loves you, so you might want to at least act like you care." _Ginny, you should really, really, _shut up_ now._

Remus's eyes flash angrily. "You don't know what you're talking about," he says in a low voice.

Instead of letting it go, like any sane person would, I also lower my voice dangerously and say, "Bullocks. I care about Tonks very much and I don't like the way you've been acting. I know you have a difficult problem, but maybe you should appreciate just how good you've got it compared to a lot of other people." Then, after throwing a furious look at his stunned face, I stand and walk off.

The second I am away I feel guilty, but I'm not going to apologize. No matter how rude it was to say so, I'm right. He shouldn't be acting that way. It is unfair to Tonks, the woman who married him knowing full well what she was doing. He was insane if he thought being a werewolf changed the feelings of anyone who cared about him. (Although, his bad attitude might keep people at bay.) You can't help who you love. If that was the case, I would have let go of Harry a long time ago.

My eyes search the marquee looking for someone to talk to. Of course, naturally, they fall on Harry who is talking to an old wizard and Auntie Muriel. Whatever they're talking about is causing a pained expression on Harry's face. I stare at him, hoping he'll feel the intensity of my gaze and come ask me to dance. After my argument with Remus, I want Harry to forget about our stupid break up and spend some time with me. I'd even endure Muriel's company if that's what it would take to talk to him.

"Why don't you just ask him to dance?"

I jump and turn to see Bill standing behind me. Great, now I look like a pathetic stalker pinning after Harry's attention. Bill has an eyebrow quirked waiting for me to reply.

"Because I'm supposed to be getting over him not standing here like an idiot wishing he'd ask me to dance."

"But that's exactly what you are doing." I try to hit his arm, but he dodges out of the way laughing.

I roll my eyes. "Is this the only reason you've come to talk to me, to annoy me? Don't you have a wife to be snogging senseless?"

"She's dancing with dad. Besides, there'll be plenty of time for that later -" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"- Ew -" People have got to stop doing that.

"- And I thought you might like to dance with me to take your mind of things."

"Things?" My eyes flicker uncontrollably to where Harry's sitting.

"You know . . . lightning scars, Death Eaters, green eyes, oppressing gloom . . . pick whatever you like." I try my hardest to keep my face straight, but the corner of my lips twitch against my will and I break into a smile. Bill's managed to do it again - make me smile when I don't want to.

"Okay, let's go." I grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor. As we sway in circles to a slow song I ask, "So how does it feel to married?"

Bill's face takes on a dazed, yet content look. "It's like I've downed a whole bottle of Firewhiskey without the negative side effects." I remember the warm feeling the drink gave me when I had toasted to Mad-Eye's death after Harry arrived. "It's the best feeling in the world," he continued, looking at Fleur lovingly from across the dance floor.

Sadness muddles my happiness for Bill as I realize I might never get the blissful feeling he's experiencing right now. I try to imagine what it must feel like to love someone so much your entire body feels warm just by being in the same room as them. Every time I was alone with Harry, my heart would beat so furiously I'd have trouble concentrating on anything other than him. The only thing I registered was the way his touch would send tingles down my spine, as if an electric current was running through us. I miss that feeling . . .

Bill isn't doing a good job of distracting me.

Angry voices sound behind me, and Bill and I stop dancing to see what's going on. Victor Krum and Luna's dad are nose-to-nose having a heated argument. Before anyone can ask what's wrong, Krum storms off and nearly mauls down Hermione.

I walk over to her. "Well that was rude. I wonder what they were arguing about."

She looks curious, but quickly forgets it. "Honestly, I couldn't care in the slightest at the moment." She smiles, staring off in the direction of a waiter where Ron is getting drinks.

I catch onto her mood and nudge her playfully in the ribs. "You must be tired from all that dancing I saw you doing."

She laughs, her cheeks turning pink. "I saw you dancing with Lee Jordan," she accuses. Probably, hoping I was distracting myself. _Oh, Hermione, I wish._

"Fred and George put him up to it, I think."

"I doubt it," Hermione replies. "I'm surprised you haven't got flocks of boys hanging off your arms already. You look gorgeous." Now it was my turn to blush.

Hermione looks around. "I told Ron I'd be waiting by Harry. He seems to be done talking with your Auntie Muriel." I follow her gaze to see Harry sitting by himself, face scrunched in thought, looking off into space. "I'd better go before she decides to come back." Walking away, she calls, "Tonight we'll have a fresh gossip session."

I turn around, looking for something else to attempt to do. I see Remus and Tonks talking off to the side. It looks like a serious conversation, but I notice he doesn't look as grumpy as before. I walk toward them. Maybe I can change their serious conversation into something more lighthearted. I haven't really gotten a chance to talk to Tonks properly anyway.

I barely got two feet, however, when something large and silvery goes streaking past me head and stops inches from me feet. It takes me a second to realize it is the lynx Patronus of Kingsley Shacklebolt. I'd seen it before when we were staying at Number 12 Grimmauld Place, the Headquarters of the Order before Sirius died.

Everyone stops moving, staring as the lynx opens its mouth and says in a loud, deep voice, "_The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."_


End file.
